The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1887-12-01

ou nave often seen him CROSSING the
heids with rapid steps, recognizable not
oriy by his uniform cap and Jacket. but
stu more by the sustained activity of
MS movements, for to him the moments
are counted, and he has no right to slack
en- his pace. An inGefatigable walker.
ne fultlils his duty from the first day of
the year to the last without rest or ceas-
ing. When tropical sun invites all
.''hg creatures to repose when the
weather Is as cold as the frozen wids of
siberia; when it rains, or when it SHOWS
until the roads are buried and the paths
ooliterated, he must still 90 across the
country, through the forests and the
,reacherous marshes, seeking for the
houses lost in these solitudes and cut off
from all communications with the towns
save by the mlssives which it is his place
to bring them. He makes not less than
from ten to twelve leagues a day, follow
ing the ny paths, leaping the streams,
scaling the cliffs, risking a fall into some
deep ravine, and wounding himself upon
the thorns of the thickets.
To loiter even is forbidden him. for the
hour to return is fixed by law, the letters
which he brings back with him must de-
part with the outgoing mail, and the
slightest lnfractlon of this programme
would have the gravest consequences.
Father Martin, as he was called
throughout the countryside, had followed
the business Of postman for twenty wears.
An ex-soldier, thanks to the irreproach-
able conditions of the service which
grants its patronage as signal favor, he
had obtained from the postal bureau of
the canton the privilege of receiving fif-
ty francs month as salary. Yet Martin
was not at all proud of this exalted posi-
ton, though he perfectly understood its
responsibilities and its duties.
Everybody knew and liked the little
gray-haired postman with the complex
ion of brass, but whose limbs possessed the
supleneSs and strength of steel they
knew him, as | say, and what was better
still, appreciated him for his scrupulous
observance of rules though he never re-
fused to do them favor provided it
conceded with his work. There was not
corner of his circumspection that he
had not travelled from time to time with
only the company of the birds and his
wolf dog kep, and not hamlet or dwell
ing in the circuit to reach which he could
not tell you the miles required, almost to
the exactitude of a meter. Neither was
he one to spare himself, no matter what
the weather, a half hours search bv
throwing aside into ditch some worth
less circular or letter of doubtful address.
If the destination could not be found he
returned with it at once to the bureau of
the canton.
a slave to orders, punctual as clock,
and with discretion which discouraged
all curiosity, everywhere was his coming
welcomed, and when he was seen enter
ing the villages the children ran to meet
him, and the dogs received him with jov-
Gus barkings. But to the offer of cup
of cider or bit of bread, the postman
invariably said "no ''-time pressed, and
he disliked to contract social obligations.
His record at the Office was equally
good. and the chief more than once re-
GREETED that the parsimony of the gov
ernmcnt did not permit him to acknowl-
edge such loyal services.
One morning about the middle Of
October Father Martin departed on his
usual rounds. The weather was trightful,
and, as it had rained necessarily for more
than week, the roads were quagmires,
the brooks torrents and what leaves
remained upon the trees so rotten and
sodden with the water that they afforded
not the slightest shelter from the storm.
The postman, however, though drenched
to the skin, marched with the impassi-
biltv Of the true soldier, who never dis
ac
had partially distributed his dispatches,
but his circrit was far from ended, when
he came to the auberge Of Sebastian, an
inn, or rather a miserable wine shop at
the entrance to the forest, and which had
for its clientage the manufacturers of
wooden shoes, who dwelt in the neigh
borhood and came there for groceries and
alcoholic slim. lants
"Hello Mr.. Postman," shouted voice
as he passed the door; "won't you bide
a bit till the storm has passed and give
me some information which I'm greatly
in need OFF,"
Turning about, Martin saw that this
invitation was addressed to him by
man standing in the doorway, with his
hands in his pockets and pipe in his
mouth. AS the rain was falling in tor
rents at the moment, and the wind blow
ing so violently that he found it impossl-
bic to keep the road, Martin decided to
see what it was he wanted, particularly
as the exigencies of the service in nowise
prohibited his accepting shelter in cir
cumstances like these.
He entered the auberge, as requested,
therefore, and, placing himself before the
logs which cracked on the hearth, he
asked the man "What " was his desire z"
"To know the hours the mails go out
and come in, and dozen things besides,
Father Martini" he answered, with a
laugh, approaching the fire and stirring
the flames till the postman steamed like
turkey cooking in its juice.
"You know me then ?" curiously re-
garding his interrogation.
"Of course know you. Who doesn't
in these parts? But, no, Nine. Roster!
bring out some glasses and some eau de
vie. What a dogs life yours is, Father
Martin" he continued, "and your circuit
isn't finished yet !! You go, if remember,
a. far a. Plessis and Lande- Girls as well.
The people there are not waiting your ar
rival with patience, l can tell you. How
ever, they're in my way. Trust me with
vour letters; I'll see them safe and save
YOU long and weary journeying."
"Thanks," replied the postman quietly;
"but that is something | must do my
self"
"Well. perhaps You are right-you